Dean's Mission
by FoxFire90
Summary: John leaves the boys with Bobby while he takes a hunt in Colorado so Dean can heal up from Pneumonia. When days go by without any word from John, Dean takes it upon himself to save his dad. Pre series. WARNING: Spanking.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Dean's Mission – [1/?]

**Author: **Fox

**Characters: **John, Dean, Sam, & Bobby

**Implement: **Belt

**Summary: **John leaves the boys with Bobby while he takes a hunt in Colorado so Dean can heal up from Pneumonia. When days go by without any word from John, Dean takes it upon himself to save his dad.

Prompt word was 'dangerous' from _The Little Spanko's _website.

**Author's Note: **This is one story broken up into [?/?] parts. I'll posting as I continue writing. So far I've gotten three parts written with a little more than half done (I think). Also, because it's the Winchesters' and because if they were real people they wouldn't be PG-13, there's course language. You're warned.

* * *

><p>One man and two boys were currently sitting at a small, out-of-the-way diner each with different expressions; the father had a weary, worn expression that held heavy eyes and haggard lines etched in his face.<p>

The eldest of the two boys looked like a he might happily bite the head off of anybody who dared to even look at him wrong; his mouth screwed up in a humorless sneer, eyes hard, eye brows scrunched together.

The youngest looked like he was oblivious to whatever had the two older ones set on edge, happily digging into his dinner with gusto.

**SPN**

John Winchester rubbed a hand over his face, a soft scratching sound emitting as his palm roamed over unshaven territory on his chin. He was tired and his oldest boy, Dean, who was sixteen and full of piss and vinegar was testing his patience, which he supposed wasn't hard to do, but that was beside the point.

They were on the way to Bobby's so John could park the boys while he took a hunt in Colorado, that being the reason for his oldest attitude.

Looking at Dean, the paleness of his skin, the dark circles under his eyes, the light sheen of sweat on his forehead, sent John's heart into overdrive.

Almost two weeks ago the Winchesters' were in Washington dealing with a disgruntled spirit which ended with John and Dean digging up the dude's bones to salt and burn while Sam sat in the Impala nursing a possible broken wrist. It was the middle of January and the father son duo froze their asses off as they dug the grave and wasn't it just their luck that the clouds decided to open up? It was a good ten minutes of digging with numb fingers, grunting and a lot of _son of a bitches!_ in the rain before they finally reached the coffin and was able to pry it open. After making sure the remains were charred John ushered Dean to the Impala where he promptly turned the heat up before heading for a motel.

The next day John noticed Dean had developed a cough but his oldest shrugged it of and he didn't push the issue.

The father should have known better.

Within forty-eight hours Dean was put down hard with a wet, hacking cough and high fever. John made him stay in bed and tried to medicate his son himself but the fever seemed to spike even higher, high enough the kid was delirious, asking for his mom. The final straw was when Sam yelled for him as he was taking a shower. The man could hear the panic in his youngest voice sending him into Marine mode. He immediately jumped out of the shower and wrenched open the door as he wrapped a towel around his waist. What he was met with made his heart plummet to the floor; Sam was frantically leaning over his older brother as Dean wheezed and coughed, trying to get breaths that just refused to come.

John blindly threw on clothes as he gave orders to Sam to get the Impala cranked. As his youngest tore out of the motel room John tried to calm Dean down so he could get the boy moved. He had to pry the kid's fingers from the sheets he had a death grip on and the scooped Dean up in his arms and hurried outside.

John drove like a bat out of hell while Sam tried to keep his older brother calm in the backseat, rubbing soothing circles on the rapidly rising and falling chest. Sam didn't need to be told to go get help when they halted in front of the ER doors. He flew out the car as John got Dean out of the back seat. As soon as Dean was on a gurney they wheeled him back leaving John and Sam anxious in the waiting room.

Thirty minutes later a doctor came out and explained Dean had Pneumonia and the pus that built up in his lungs had caused respiratory problems.

John thought he should probably kick the kid's ass for not telling him how sick he really felt but then he would only be a hypocrite: yeah Dean knew better than to keep something about his health from him but John also knew better than to believe his oldest, stubborn child would tell him something was wrong. So who really needed their ass kicked?

Dean had spent four days in the hospital, complaining the whole time, until John finally took pity on his boy and signed him out AMA. Before being released though the doctor had explained that Dean didn't need to be exposed to the cold weather and it was extremely important that he take all of the antibiotics prescribed until he was one-hundred percent.

Ergo, the reason for traveling to South Dakota.

**SPN**

Back at the diner John watched as Dean poked at his half eaten burger with his fork, his son's way of trying to be rebellious in a not-in-your-face way because the in-your-face way was something his boys knew not to do unless they wanted to be knocked down a peg or two.

"Dean," John said, a slight warning in his voice. When he didn't get acknowledgment he tried again, "Dean." Firmer this time. He felt his blood pressure spike when he didn't get an answer. He leaned with his arms on the table and growled only loud enough for their table to hear, "Boy, if I have to say your name one more time me and you are gonna have problems."

That seemed to get a reaction out of his son as Dean sighed and raised his eyes to meet his father's, "Sir?"

"Quit playin' with your food and eat it." John ordered as he pointed at the bun and meat patty that was taking the fork assault.

"I'm not hungry." Came the curt reply.

"Tough. You need to eat with your meds." Which, for fuck's sake, took an act of Congress and a threat of bodily harm to get his son to take. Thankfully the boy wizened up and took a bite out of his holey burger.

"Dad?" Sam asked completely undeterred by his older brother's pissy-ness. John grunted his acknowledgement as he took a sip of coffee. "How long will the hunt in Colorado take?"

"I don't know, Sammy. A coupla days, a week tops. Why?"

The twelve year old shrugged his shoulders, "Just wonderin'."

"We should be going with you." Dean spat out.

God, why did his boys have to be so damn stubborn? _'Cause they're Winchesters'. _"Shut your mouth, Dean." John advised his son. "I'm not gonna argue with you about this anymore. You still aren't fully healed up and I'm not risking you having a relapse, it's just too dangerous." John's gruff way of saying how much he loved the kid and that he cared. "You keep pushin' the issue and we can make another stop and take care of it. You got me?"

Dean stabbed his burger again and sighed, "Yes, sir."

"Then finish eating. We have to get back on the road."

The drive to Singer's Salvage Yard wasn't any more pleasant but Dean managed to keep his mouth under control. John understood Dean's problem; the boy was a true Hunter. Relished in it in fact. He was a natural: strong, smart, and tactical. Dean was truly happy when they were on a case, hunting down whatever fugly that was plaguing humanity that week. His oldest son was gifted in the way of weapons and quick on his feet but the most important virtue was the reason behind all the natural talent; vengeance.

Unlike his youngest, Dean could remember his mother; fair skin, beautiful golden locks, sparkling green eyes - her burning on the ceiling in Sammy's nursery. Even at the age of four, with all the innocence in the world, the boy knew what happened to Mommy was just, _wrong_. Not that her dying was anything normal but even the act of death it wasn't right. That's all it took and the little boy turned into a skilled hunter.

They arrived at Bobby's just after midnight. Dean immediately jumped out of the car only giving a grunt of acknowledgement before pushing passed the older hunter into the house.

"Nice to see you too, Dean." Bobby grumbled as he watched the teen disappear up the stair case.

"Hey, Singer."

"I take it he's pissed about you leavin' them here?" Bobby commented as he took his hat off and scratched at his head.

"Yeah," John sighed as he guided a half asleep Sammy towards the house, "I'll make sure he's straightened out before I leave tomorrow."

Bobby shook his head as he followed the two Winchesters' inside, "Damn idjits." he muttered.

John managed to get Sammy upstairs without the kid breaking his neck trying to climb the stairs still mostly asleep. When they entered the boys room Dean was already stripped down to his boxers, laying on his stomach in bed with his face to the wall and gripping his pillow tightly. Sam quickly toed off his shoes, his eyes already shut, as John helped him out of his jeans and shirt. With his youngest situated and snoring lightly the father turned to his oldest who he knew wasn't asleep -no, not with that Kung Fu death grip on his pillow.

"Son, when you come downstairs in the mornin' I want that attitude gone."

Dean didn't show any sign that he heard his father except to grip his pillow harder. John wasn't a man who tolerated disrespect and usually he would have acted quickly and sufficiently to show the boy it was unacceptable but tonight...just-

Well, fuck it. He was too goddamned tired.

Giving up for the night John sighed and shut the door as he left. He made his way downstairs to the kitchen where Bobby was sitting at the table with a beer waiting for him. He dropped down in a chair across from his friend and took the offered beer gratefully.

"Ya look like shit, Winchester." Bobby finally spoke up as he took in the man's weary face.

"Thanks, Bobby." John snorted and took a pull of his beer before continuing, "That kid is going to be the death of me."

"I cain't imagine he's had sunshine and rainbows shootin' out his ass."

John shook his head, "Dean's been fightin' me on everything and the little shit even turned us around once on purpose. I almost killed him two states back."

Bobby smirked at his friend's confession but the sobered when he remembered the reason the boys were staying with him, "He was real sick, huh, John?"

Fear overtook John's features before he reigned it in, "The kid couldn't fuckin' breath, Bobby. His fever spiked so high he was asking for, Mary." he rubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath, "Scared the hell outta me."

Bobby understood how serious the situation was just by the fact that John took Dean to the hospital. Because of CPS and do-gooder doctors who only got in the way, the Winchesters' usually avoided hospitals like the Plague and did Field Triage themselves. If John took his son to the ER it meant the kid's life was at stake, and damn if Bobby's chest didn't tighten when he got that call from his friend a couple of days earlier. Sam and Dean were like his boys too and it would kill him if anything happened to either one of them.

"I'm hittin' the sack, Bobby." John announced shaking the older hunter from his reverie. "Thanks for the beer."

"Not a problem."

John dragged himself up the staircase and before going to his own room stopped outside of the boys' room to listen. He could hear Sammy's soft snore but louder than that was Dean's own wheezy exhale. John let his forehead thump quietly against the doorframe before he pushed himself off and went to his room to get his son's inhaler. Fuck, he just wanted to sleep. He searched through his duffel for the little orange and red spray contraption. Finding it he returned to the boys' room and prepared himself to battle the will of his eldest child. As John opened the door Dean's wheezing became more prominent which worried him a little. His boy wasn't relapsing, right? God, he hoped not.

"Dean," John called out as he shook his son's shoulder.

"Hm?" Dean responded back. The fact that the boy didn't even open his eyes at the slightest sound like he normally would have sent a warning flag up in the father's mind.

"You need to take some meds, bud."

His hard as nails, cocky, smart mouthed sixteen year old actually whined, "Daad."

John smiled at the sudden flash of memories of Dean when he was four just before Mary died using that same line when he was told it was bedtime.

"I know, dude. Use the inhaler, you're wheezin'."

Dean sighed loudly with crackles included, but sat up and glared at the dreaded inhaler his dad was holding out to him, "I wasn't wheezin'." He complained.

John snorted, "How would you know? You were asleep." Dean still refused to take the spray out of his hand and John contemplated just shoving the damn thing down his kid's throat. Instead he sighed, "I'm tired, son. Just take the shit so we can go to sleep." Dean grabbed the inhaler and took a quick puff. "Two puffs." John ordered. Dean rolled his eyes but took the second puff and then slapped it back in John's palm before flopping back down in bed.

The over exhausted hunter didn't bother with goodnights, just left the room before he decided to commit murder.

**SPN**

Breakfast was a tense event Bobby noted. All three Winchesters looked mean as hell from lack of sleep. Dean had kept his little brother up with all his hacking and coughing which led to John being up to force more medicine down his throat. Dean sat seething with his fist clenched on the table after his father had just shot him down again when he attempted to change his mind about letting him go. As John and Bobby discussed what John's plans were Dean felt an anxious churning in his gut that was quickly rising up through his chest and finally, violently out his mouth,

"You makin' me stay here is bullshit!" He erupted as he slammed his fist down on the table effectively ceasing all conversation at the table. "I'm not-"

Before he could get anything else out of his mouth his dad was dragging him out of his chair by his shirt and pushing him through the kitchen and out the back door. Dean had a hard time keeping his footing as John plowed through the backyard towards the garage. John yanked the door open of the building and then slammed it shut after pushing his son through.

Once let go, Dean quickly turned towards his dad still seething and not appreciating the fact that he was being manhandled. Both Winchesters stood with their chests puffed out, sizing each other up.

John couldn't believe his kid was showing as much disrespect as he was- Dean had never once acted this way.

"I don't know what the hell has gotten into you," John growled as he reached down to his belt buckle, "but I ain't gonna tolerate it."

Dean was so beside himself with anger he didn't even flinch as Dad hastily got his belt free of his jeans.

He didn't protest as Dad roughly grabbed his shoulder and turned him so he was facing the workbench and bent him over it.

Dean _did_ flinch though when the first lick created an immediate line of fire across his ass.

John was silent as he reared his arm back and brought the strip of leather down on his son's backside. This was long over-due. The kid had been asking for it since he was released from the hospital. Well, John was going to deliver.

Dean grunted loudly as the licks kept coming but even if it hurt Dad didn't make him drop trou like he normally would have and he wasn't swinging as hard either. After ten or so he finally decided that his mouth wasn't worth his ass being blistered.

"Ok!" He shouted, 'cause damn Dad had a hell of a swing.

John stopped mid stroke and let his arm fall to the side of his leg, "I'm not leaving you here to torture you, Dean. I'd rather have a second pair of eyes but you're still sick."

"It's just a cold." Dean retorted.

John whacked his son with the belt again, "It's not just a cold, Dean! It's fuckin' Pneumonia! You could die from it. I'm not gonna lose you because you're too damn stubborn."

And Dean really wanted to say, _and where do you think I get it from? _But he smartly kept his mouth shut. It would guarantee loosing his jeans; yeah, no thanks.

Dad's words hit Dean and he lost his anger. "Ok, I get it, Dad. I'm sorry." he replied and tried to get up.

"Uh huh, I'm glad you got it, Dean," John said as he pushed Dean back down, "but we're not done here."

"C'mon, Dad, I said I was sorry!"

"Yeah, well, the way I see it, you've had this comin' for all the lip you've been given me. You just sit tight, bud."

Dean groaned but was able to get through the last ten licks Dad laid. It wasn't by far the worst whippin' his Dad had doled out but if Dean wanted to be honest he was feeling like shit anyways.

Finally, Dad let him up and he quickly wiped his eyes while John put his belt back on.

"Look at me, Dean." John ordered and waited for the watery green eyes to lock into his own. "You need to get your shit together, son. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir." Dean sniffed.

John put a hand on his son's shoulder and gave a slight squeeze, "I'm happy that you wanna come with me, Dean. I'd rather have you boys with me but you dyin' ain't worth it. I need you in top shape, so stay here with Bobby and get yourself better so you'll be ready to kick ass when I come back."

"I hate not bein' on the hunt with you." Dean admitted and swiped at his nose one last time. "I can't watch your back if I'm not there."

"I know, kid." John sighed and moved his hand from Dean's shoulder. "Let's go back inside so you can apologize to Bobby. I need to get goin' soon."

"Yes, sir."

When they got back inside John shoved Dean into a chair at the table making his son wince and then scowl. Bobby took the apology gracefully - as graceful as Bobby Singer got-

"Do it again, boy, I'll kick your ass." Was the gruff response as Bobby folded his paper in half in search of the funnies with a mumbled; _made me spill my damn coffee_.

"Yes, sir." Dean smirked.

John quirked an eyebrow towards his youngest, "Do I need to straighten you out before I leave, Sammy?"

"What?" Sam squeaked. "I didn't do nothin'!"

Dad winked at him, "I know, bud."

Sam huffed, crossed his arms and gave his Sammy Signature Bitchface, "Not funny, Dad."

Dean rolled his eyes, "Don't get your panties in such a twist, twerp."

"Shut up, jerk."

"Bitch."

"Really?" John sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, "I'm standin' right here, boys."

After getting his duffel together John gave death threats to anyone who didn't act like they had sense while he was gone and then gave both his boys a quick shoulder squeeze before leaving for his hunt.

* * *

><p>I'll have more up soon! I already have three parts written out so the more comments I get the faster I'll post. Yes, I'm resorting to blackmail...deal with it.<p>

-Fox


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Dean's Mission [2/?]

**Author: **Fox

**Characters: **John, Dean, Sam, & Bobby

**Implement: **Hand. Spoon (mentioned)

**Summary: **John leaves the boys with Bobby while he takes a hunt in Colorado so Dean can heal up from Pneumonia. When days go by without any word from John, Dean takes it upon himself to save his dad.

Prompt word was 'dangerous' from _The Little Spanko's _website.

**Author's Note: **This is one story broken up into [?/?] parts. I'll posting as I continue writing. So far I've gotten three parts written with a little more than half done (I think). Also, because it's the Winchesters' and because if they were real people they wouldn't be PG-13, there's course language. You're warned.

* * *

><p>Dean watched the Impala roar down Bobby's dirt road with his arms crossed. He felt the familiar irritation churn in his gut again and decided he should find something to do, because he'd like to say that Bobby's bark was worse then his bite but then he'd be a liar. He didn't need anymore encounters with his already tenderized ass.<p>

He walked around outside for a while and then sat on the porch with Rumsfeld, stroking the dog between her ears. He wasn't out there long before he heard the screen door open accompanied by heavy footsteps.

"Dean, ya better c'mon inside."

After a minute Dean sighed heavily, "This sucks."

Bobby laid a hand on top of his head, "I know, boy. Johnny'll be ok."

"I know, Bobby." Dean smiled up at his surrogate Uncle.

"Alright then, get yer ass inside. I've got lunch comin'."

**[line break][line break][line break]**

The trip to Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado was an eleven hour drive; John Winchester made it in nine. As soon as he found a cabin to rent out he used the phone in the Park Ranger's office to call Bobby's.

"Yeah?" Bobby's gruff voice answered.

"Well, hello to you too, Singer." John snorted.

"Kiss my ass, Winchester."

John sighed and rubbed his chin, "Is my boys givin' you problems, Bobby?"

"What the hell you think ya damn, idjit? You know Dean can't keep his ass still to save his life! I've already had to whack 'im with my spoon over his damn medicine and then I laid into Sam 'cause he's an antagonizing 'lil shit!"

John winced at his friend's irate voice, "Sorry, Bobby."

"Damn Winchesters." Bobby mumbled into the phone and then shouted louder, "Hold on, boy!"

"Is that, Dean?"

"Yeah. Here he is."

John heard what sounded like a smack – _ow, Bobby! _- rustling of the phone and then, "Dad! Are you there yet? Did you figure out what it is?"

"Hold on, son. I don't know anything yet, I just got here."

"Oh." Came the dejected response.

John cleared his throat and put some growl into his voice, "I thought I told you boys not to give Bobby any shit?"

"Uhhh…"

"I think you know what to expect when I get back."

John swore he could see Dean's grin as he answered, "Hugs and kisses?"

"No smartass," John barked through the phone, "But if you want a hug after I tan your ass I could probably manage. You can pass that piece of Intel down to your brother too."

"Aww, Dad. C'mon, it's killin' me just sitting here."

John shook his head even though his son couldn't see the gesture, "Doesn't matter, Dean. You and Sam both know if Bobby has to punish you when I'm gone then you get it again when I get back."

"Yes, sir." Dean sighed.

"Alright then, I'll call you guys tomorrow night after I've figured out what I'm dealin' with."

"Yes, sir."

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna be ok, kid."

Dean chuckled, "I know, dad. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Dean hung up the phone and forcefully palmed his forehead. Great, now he has his Dad's belt to look forward to when the man gets back. Well, at least he won't be in the shit hole alone; Sammy had his own blistering comin' to him.

**SPN**

Three days. Three goddamn days since they heard anything from John Winchester.

Bobby was calling different Hunters to see if they had heard anything, putting his feelers out. Dean was close to having a complete meltdown which wasn't helping his breathing issues any. Sam, well, Sam was mimicking his older brother by panicking. Neither boy was interested in sleeping or eating or even showering in case their father called.

Bobby had to force them to do everything but he didn't have the heart to smack their asses. Truth be told, he was worried about his friend too.

"Bobby we have to go find him!" Dean urged.

It was the same argument they'd been having since the night John didn't call. All the stress was wearing the boy down; his fever returned, he wheezed if he got too worked up, he was pale and since he wasn't sleeping or eating much he had dark circles under his eyes and lost some weight.

Sam was standing beside his brother not looking much better. The youngest Winchester didn't do well without sleep. His hair was stringy and sticking up in different directions. His arm was wrapped around his skinny frame as if trying to keep himself glued together.

Dean had his arm resting over Sam's shoulders trying to do his job and look out for his little brother while simultaneously freaking out. The brothers had put all ribbing and bickering aside and became comrades in arms.

Dad was missing and that's all that mattered.

**SPN**

John cussed like the Marine he was as he stopped to pull out the parka from his pack.

After he had got off the phone with Dean he filled his pack with the essentials: Holy Water, rock salt, flares, hiking gear, extra food, weather amenities and then started his trek through Colorado's rough terrain.

He scouted the places where the two victims were found. The campsite was completely torn apart: tent ripped open, clothes strewn all over and he found blood, lots of blood.

The Park Rangers chalked it up to a bear attack which it looked like except a bear couldn't leave claw marks on trees sixteen feet up.

What sealed the deal was the voices John heard when he knew he was completely alone. The creature was mimicking voices he knew….and damn was that Sammy's?

He was Hunting a Wendigo.

**SPN**

Bobby, Dean and Sam were sitting at the table in silence. Bobby was took off his hat to rub at his head, Dean was staring at his cup of coffee that had long ago gone cold, Sam looked like he was about to cry.

"Uncle Bobby," Sam squeaked in an incredibly soft voice.

"Yeah?"

"Is Dad dead?"

Dean's reaction was instantaneous; his head snapped up to glare at his brother and then he reared his arm back. He punched Sam's shoulder so hard the boy fell out of his chair with a shouted _ow!_

Sam's tears finally fell he was holding in as he gripped his arm and stared at his older brother from the floor with those big hazel, puppy eyes.

"Dean?" He asked uncertain. Dean had _never _hit him like that.

Dean shoved away from the table to stand over his brother with eyes like green fire, "Don't you _ever _fuckin' say that shit again." He growled.

Bobby recovered enough to get up from his chair and grab Dean's shirt collar to hold him place while he placed a volley of thunderous swats to his unsuspecting ass.

He hit the kid so hard not only did he feel the sting in his palm but he felt the burn all the way up to his shoulder. Each time his hand found its target Dean's hips pushed forward from the impact.

Dean was so pissed off he didn't hear Bobby get up or feel him grab him to turn him sideways. His attention didn't snap back into focus until he found himself off balance from the force of his Uncle's swats. Before he could get a hiss out Bobby stopped and jerked him around to face him,

"The only reason why I ain't takin' my belt to your bare ass and skinin' you alive is 'cause I know you're worried 'bout your, Daddy. But, Dean Winchester-" Bobby growled as he fisted the sixteen year old's shirt to pull him to his chest, the brim of his hat touching the kid's forehead. "-you put your hands on your brother like that again I won't take that into consideration. Got me?"

Dean's hands came to rest lightly on Bobby's wrists that were stuffed in his shirt in a silent plea. "Yes, sir."

Dean was released- the teen immediately bowing his head in guilt, "Have you lost your _damn_ mind, boy?" Bobby spat as he helped Sam up who was still holding his shoulder too shocked to say anything. "Both of ya sit your asses down." The two boys immediately complied. Bobby looked to the youngest Winchester and made sure he was paying attention, "Sam, your, Daddy ain't dead, boy. I don't wanna hear that come outta your mouth again. Are we clear?" Sam nodded his head slowly. "I know both you boys are worried but it don't do us a damn bit of good if you can't use your heads. Now, I want you to pull your shit together and git with tha' program." Again he got twin nods. "I can't hear you."

"Yes, sir." Came the unison answer.

Bobby went over to Dean and pulled him out of his chair to shove him towards the stairs, "I want you to go take a shower and cool off. Afterwards we're gonna eat and you two are goin' to bed." As Dean headed up the stairs Bobby turned back to Sam, "C'mere, I wanna look at your shoulder."

Sam slowly got up from his chair and walked over to his Uncle for inspection. Bobby turned him so he could lift his shirt up; he winced when he saw a Dean shaped fist imprint on the boys shoulder in between his shoulder blade and the rounded part of his arm. It was already red and inflamed and turning an interesting purplish color on the edges.

"You'll have a nasty bruise and it'll prob'ly hurt like a sumbitch for a while but I think you'll live." Bobby reported as he turned Sam back around.

His heart broke at the tears that were rolling down Sam's face that had nothing to do with the pain radiating from his shoulder. Bobby pulled him into his chest and laid a hand on his head. The kid's dam broke instantly resulting in him becoming a sobbing mess. Deep, frame racking sobs.

"It's alright, Sammy."

Sam shook his head, "I didn't mean to make him s-so mad, Uncle Bob-by."

"You didn't, kid. You're brother's jist scared and you know he don't do scared. He acts like a damn fool."

Sam snorted and released Bobby so he could wipe his face, "Yeah." He agreed and then smiled, "He's an idiot."

Bobby smiled and ruffled the kid's floppy hair, "Go on upstairs and wash your face. After that you can help me with dinner."

Sam pivoted towards the stairs but stopped, "Thanks, Uncle Bobby."

Bobby had to clear his throat before he could answer but he gave Sam a nod, "You're welcome, son."

Five minutes later as he was pulling out an onion from the fridge for his chili he heard Sam's frantic voice yell down at him,

"Uncle Bobby! Dean's gone!"

* * *

><p><strong>Sooo...there's 'nother part :) I hope you enjoyed it and that you'll leave me a comment telling me just that!<strong>

**-Fox**


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Dean's Mission [3/?]

**Author: **Fox

**Characters: **John, Dean, Sam, & Bobby

**Implement: **N/A [this part]

**Summary: **John leaves the boys with Bobby while he takes a hunt in Colorado so Dean can heal up from Pneumonia. When days go by without any word from John, Dean takes it upon himself to save his dad.

Prompt word was 'dangerous' from _The Little Spanko's _website.

**Author's Note: **This is one story broken up into [?/?] parts. I'll posting as I continue writing. So far I've gotten three parts written with a little more than half done (I think). Also, because it's the Winchesters' and because if they were real people they wouldn't be PG-13, there's course language. You're warned.

* * *

><p>Dean couldn't believe that he full on punched Sammy. Christ his Dad was going to kill him when Bobby narc'd on him. Fuck, he won't be able to even <em>think <em>about sitting down for a month.

He trudged up the stairs after Bobby ordered him upstairs for a cool down period so he could get his head on straight. He could still feel the burn and throb his ass was emitting from Bobby's hard-as-hell hand. Damn.

Maybe his Uncle was right; he probably did lose his damn mind. His dad was missing though, couldn't be reached and he thought maybe that warranted one losing his mind. Nobody had heard from him in days and Bobby refused to go after him. Just kept saying that John would be ok and he'd call when he could. That wasn't good enough for Dean though. He couldn't live without his father. What the hell would he do? Sammy's question had struck a cord in him that was pure, undiluted, fear.

Dean needed John to give him orders so he knew what he was supposed to be doing in the world; needed his gruff voice barking at him when he slipped up. Because that's what Dean was good at; taking orders and following them like the soldier he was shaped to be.

He didn't head for the bathroom but to his and Sammy's bedroom instead. His feet automatically walked him to the side of his bed where his hand reached for his duffel. In that moment he made a split decision; he was going to look for his father. Orders be damned.

**SPN**

John knew his boys must be having an ape-shit fit along with Singer. He was still hunting the Wendigo, just behind the damn thing. The son of a bitch was taking him deeper into the forest where he didn't want to be. He was already a good five miles out from any kind of civilization. People didn't venture this far into the forest; except him of course. If he didn't catch up to this thing soon enough he'd have to double back to get more supplies and see if maybe he could recruit another Hunter. Fuck, he could use his boy on this one.

**SPN**

Sam's words made Bobby whip around abandoning the onion and opened fridge altogether. He bounded up the stairs where Sam was standing in the middle of the bedroom him and his brother shared. The window was open and cold air was rushing in. Bobby moved over to snap the window close and then turned to search for Dean's stuff. His stomach dropped when he didn't find the boy's duffel.

Bobby left Sam standing in the room as he hauled ass downstairs to the front door. He nearly took the screen door off the hinges ripping it open.

_The idjit better not of…._

His truck was gone.

"Goddammit, Dean."

Bobby was going to kill the boy when he got his hands on him - after John Winchester finished with him.

**SPN**

Dean somehow managed to sneak out of the window and jump to the ground below without alerting anybody. He thanked whoever was listening then moved to find a vehicle. Bobby had hundreds around his junkyard but he didn't know which were drivable and which weren't. He didn't want to try to crank one up for it not work and make some hideous, loud as hell, noise – like the exhaust backfiring. Bobby would be on his ass faster than- actually, he couldn't think of something as fast as that.

That only left one option.

Dean grimaced when he realized he was going to have to hotwire his Uncle's truck. The man was going to shred him to pieces.

The truck finally sputtered to life after the first couple of tries rubbing the right wires together. He hopped in quickly, throwing his duffel across the bench seat and then got out of there.

After he got thirty miles outside of Sioux Falls, Dean stopped at a gas station so he could look at the map he found in Bobby's glove compartment.

He put the map on the seat next to him and then stared out the windshield, biting his lip. This was by far the stupidest thing he's ever done - out of a long list of stupid - but he had to go help his dad.

Dean groaned when a pair of headlights caught him in the eyes and spiked his headache a few notches. His groan quickly became a coughing fit though as his chest caught in mid-wheeze.

He hotwired the car and pulled out of the parking lot. The drive should only take him ten hours, nine if he drove straight thru without stopping.

**SPN**

Bobby went back into the house making a beeline for the phone. He hoped that John Winchester was still alive and if he was he would check in with the Park Ranger's soon.

Bobby called a total of three times but no one answered. Frustrated with the whole lot of Winchesters he slammed the phone back down on the receiver.

"Balls."

Bobby grabbed a map from his desk and tracked the route to where John's hunt was, where Dean was heading. He could've kicked himself for letting Dean overhear him talking with other Hunters about John's whereabouts. Bobby really didn't want to have to track down the two eldest Winchesters with the youngest with him but he didn't really see a choice.

He looked out into the living room where Sam was sitting on the couch; the kid looked like death warmed over. Obviously the worry over his brother was the straw that broke the camel's back. He didn't look good: a little too pale, eyes dull, a skinny arm wrapped around an equally skinny body.

Bobby shook his head and picked up the phone again – he had to get in touch with someone. Dean was going to get himself killed.

**SPN**

John considered himself to be more in shape than the average man his age but tracking the Wendigo was kickin' his ass. The weather wasn't helping any; an hour ago the dark skies opened up letting a tumultuous amount of cold rain pour.

He was currently squatting beneath a tree looking over his map, trying to decide what the best course of action was. His food was gone, his clothes were soaked through even though he had his parka on, he was freezing, and the damn Wendigo kept dickin' with him. John was going to have to double back.

"Fuck." He growled as he got up from his squatting position.

It would take him a couple hours to hike back in the storm. He just wanted the damn hunt to be over with; he'd already been gone longer than he felt comfortable with. Maybe when he got back to the cabins he could use the Park Ranger's phone to check on his boys and Bobby.

**SPN**

If he wasn't out hunting down Dad, Dean might've said _fuck it_ and crawled into bed. He felt like shit.

_Maybe Dad was right about the Pneumonia stuff._

Dean's nose was running consistently, his chest was tight - felt like a Mac Truck ran over him and then backed up to make sure the job was done. Eyes felt scratchy, head pounded, and he'd get hot and then cold.

He made it to the halfway point between Sioux Falls and Estes Park before he had to stop. He rubbed at his blurry eyes as he searched his duffle for his meds. Dean dry swallowed the pills, grimacing as the white tablets partially dissolved in his mouth.

Dean forced himself to Marine up and pull the truck back on the highway.

He had to find, Dad.

**SPN**

Bobby couldn't wait by the phone any longer; they had to get on the road. He packed Sammy in his Chevelle SS and burned rubber.

**SPN**

It was taking John longer than he originally thought to hike back. The storm was making it almost impossible to move quickly: trees limbs were falling and the rain was coming down in pellets. This hunt was really starting to piss him off.

Wendigos were a major pain in John Winchester's ass.

* * *

><p><strong>I know this chapter wasn't as long and I'm sorry about that but I've got a lot of things going on right now. <strong>

**Today, while at work, a man was hit by a car. I helped the Paramedics and it felt extremely rewarding - it showed me that I'm meant to be a Paramedic which I've been trying to go to school for.**

**I'll get the next part up as soon as I can. Also, I'm working on _Just Can't Stay Put..._that will be coming out.**

**Thank you for ALL of your comments! I really appreciate them and they help to know what I can do better.**

**-Fox**


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **Dean's Mission} – [4/?]

**Author: **Fox

**Characters: **John, Dean, Sam, & Bobby

**Implement: **N/A

**Summary: **John leaves the boys with Bobby while he takes a hunt in Colorado so Dean can heal up from Pneumonia. When days go by without any word from John, Dean takes it upon himself to save his dad.

Prompt word was 'dangerous' from **thelittlespanko** website " . "

**Word Count: **1,660

**Author's Note: **This is one story broken up into [?/?] parts. I'll be posting as I continue writing. So far I've gotten three parts written with a little more than half done (I think). Also, because it's the Winchesters' and because if they were real people they wouldn't be PG-13, there's course language. You're warned, so I don't' want to hear any shit.  
>I know it's been a while since I've posted anything on this and I'm so very sorry! This isn't much but I guess it's better than nothin', huh? Hope you enjoy. -Fox<p>

By the time Dean pulled into Rocky Mountain National Park he felt like he was dying. He gripped the steering wheel tight as he wiped his sweaty forehead and coughed up more green phlegm. It was so thick now that the nasty shit would catch in his throat and he would have to cough again to clear his airway. The coughing just brought more phlegm up which would make him choke again. It was like a never ending cycle of wheezing and globs of green goop.

Dean climbed out of the truck and spit in the dirt one last time before straightening up his ruffled clothes so he looked halfway decent and then sprinted his way through the rain towards the Park Ranger's cabin.

As he stepped in the door Dean became nervous; the Winchesters' avoided any kind of law enforcement like the plague and here he was volunteering to talk to one.

"Just stay calm." He mumbled to himself stepping up to the front desk.

"Can I help you, young man?" A woman smiled at him from behind the desk.

"Yes, ma'am, I need to speak with the Park Ranger." Dean said as politely as he could.

"He's out on patrol, won't be back for a while. Is there some sort of emergency?"

Dean shook his head, "No, just wanted to ask him somethin', thank you though." He turned to leave but stopped, "Actually, maybe you can help me. I'm writing a paper for class about wild animal mauling; could you tell me where those people were attacked?"

** SPN**

John sighed in relief when he finally made it back to his cabin. He washed a sandwich down with a bottle of water as he stripped out of his soaked clothes. He left the cabin and headed to the Park Ranger's office.

John jumped the stairs onto the porch to get out of the rain and nearly skidded into the Ranger as he was coming out.

"Mr. Winchester, I was just comin' to see you."

"Why's that, Ranger?"

"A friend of yours called earlier while I was out on my rounds, left a message saying your son was sick but still on his way up here."

John was confused until he caught a familiar truck out the corner of his eye. He felt his heart drop as he realized what Bobby's message meant.

Dean was there.

**SPN**

Dean stopped hiking to bend over to rest his hands on his knees. It was dark now, still raining, and the further he walked the harder it got to breathe. It was getting hard to even distinguish which way was up, let alone where he was supposed to be going exactly.

The constant urge to find his Dad safe was pushing him on through the frozen, stinging rain. He wasn't very far into the forest – maybe a half a mile when he stopped in his tracks. Over the rain he could hear a high pitch screeching; definitely supernatural.

But wait…._was that his Dad's voice?_

That was Dean's last thought as he had another coughing fit and darkness overtook him, his body slumping to the ground in the cold mud.

**SPN**

Every once in a while Bobby glanced over at Sam as he raced down the road, dodging cars, daring anyone to honk their horn at him; the fifteen year old was falling apart. Bobby knew Sam was worried about John but his older brother was his world and Dean – that moron – up and left him while he was damned sick.

Bobby reached a hand out to settle it on Sam's shoulder giving him a reassuring squeeze.

"They're gonna be ok, Sam."

When the kid looked up from his lap stare, Bobby felt his chest squeeze tight; Sammy's eyebrows were creasing in deep between his watery, hazel orbs in worry, mouth set in a loose 'o' that let ragged breaths escape.

"Are you sure, Uncle Bobby?" he begged softly.

Bobby didn't answer him, couldn't, because he didn't want to lie to the kid.

**SPN**

John quickly replenished his supplies before flat out running back into the forest. He had to find his eldest before the boy got himself killed. When he crossed the threshold of the forest from he wanted to scream in frustration; he didn't know which way his son went and it was next to impossible to use his tracking skills since it was raining so hard.

Suddenly, over the rain, barely heard, John heard his own voice.

It took a split second for him to pinpoint the direction of his voice before he sprinted off.

As he ran, John felt long lost panic set in deep to his bones. He could feel his heart beating so hard the sound was rushing through his ears and it had nothing to do with the fact that he was running. Fuck, he could run five miles easy without getting winded – he was scared.

His voice was getting closer, getting louder.

John stopped for a minute to get his bearings to make sure he was still headed on the right path. He growled in frustration – it was goddamn hard to see through the pouring rain. But then, he caught a flash out of the corner of his eye. That's all the Wendigo was- just a flash. Never taking his eyes off the spot he steadily shucked the pack off his back and rummaged around in it. Slowly, he took the flare gun out and dropped the bag to the ground and advanced forward. Hopefully he could see what he was hunting before it saw him.

As he moved he spotted something up ahead, something big. Maybe a hundred feet or so from his current spot. He cocked the the flare gun in his hand,

"Hey!" He shouted.

Admittedly it probably wasn't the best move of his hunting career but it didn't matter because when the Wendigo spun around to screech at him John's eyes zeroed in on the slumped body on the ground the beast was hovering over. It looked suspiciously like his oldest son.

The Wendigo advanced on John with lightning speed making the man pull the trigger without really accurately aiming. John was an amazing shot, had to be, but the Wendigo moved so fast that his human eyes had a hard time following it. The beast it's self was a dark color and easily blended in with the monsoon like rain fall.

He missed his target but it caused the monster to veer off his course and into the trees with an ear piercing wail.

John dropped down by the body on the ground, his heart dropping as he found that it was actually his son. Dean's eyes were closed, not even flinching as the rain pelted the delicate skin cover his eyes.

"Dean!" John shouted over the rain. "Dean, I need you to wake up for me son!"

A) Because he needed to asses his son to make there were no injuries.

B) They were still prey to a furious Wendigo.

He got no response from his boy. Dean was soaked through and muddy, his face flushed and when John touched his forehead he found it incredibly hot.

"Dammit, Dean." John hissed as he gripped his son and hauled him up over his shoulder.

Dean wasn't exactly light; six foot and a hundred fifty pounds of pure lean muscle and that was when he wasn't bogged down in soaked clothes. John jogged most of the way, the angry growl of the Wendigo on his ass giving him incentive. He was close to the edge of the forest, back to civilisation when the beast landed in front of him.

John tried to dodge the claw that was aimed for his torso but he just wasn't fast enough. The claw caught the top of his left shoulder and continued down to just the top of his belly. The slash caused him to stumble dropping Dean in the process. They both fell hard to the ground, the mud making a _squelching _sound from the impact.

John reached for the flare that was stored in the waistband of his jean at the small of his back but came up empty handed. His shoulder and chest flamed up as he stretched himself over his son to block the next attack from the beast. As he threw his body across Dean he reached out to try to find the flare gun but he never did. Didn't have to.

There was a loud _pop! _and then right behind it a low whistle before the sound suddenly stopped, hitting something. A radius of red light erupted around them letting John get a look at Dean's flushed, pained face before an even brighter orange glow flickered.

John turned in time to see the Wendigo give a howl before falling in ashes. Turned in time to see Bobby Singer with the missing flare gun in his hand and his youngest son screaming his name.


End file.
